


live unbruised, we are friends

by VeronicaFerCard



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Amnesia, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Friends to Lovers, Gaslighting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Black Panther (2018) Compliant, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Slow Burn, Steve Feels, not really sure about this last one but better safe than sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 13:43:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14450493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeronicaFerCard/pseuds/VeronicaFerCard
Summary: All Steve wanted was to do right by Bucky, give him time to heal. But Steve never thought this would mean falling in love with his best friend or lying to him.





	live unbruised, we are friends

**Author's Note:**

> This work has a playlist: https://open.spotify.com/user/12142275845/playlist/31I7pkSDWOXzMtFmoHdl3R  
> Title from Mumford & Sons' Sigh No More.

 

Seventy-two hours ago, the thought of helping Barnes get rid of the stuff in his head, plus finally reaching some sort of truce with Rogers seemed like such a good idea. Tony should have known better. Life wouldn’t just be easy and fucking cooperate just because he wanted it to. And now, Barnes was coding on a Wakandan surgical table, right in front of him, and Tony regretted every single decision that led him to this moment. He regretted his father’s decisions too, for good measure.

Steve was going to kill him, and there would be no stopping him this time. 

“This isn’t good. Nope. This isn’t good at all,” Tony said to the lovely group of doctors and nurses who would probably die with him. Or at the very least, try to resuscitate Tony after Steve was done with him. “In fact,” Tony continued to panic as he fumbled with the equipment, “this is the opposite of good.” His wide eyes found Bruce’s face on the screen on the other side of the room. “Banner, now would be a great time to step in.” Something else started to bip. It wasn’t supposed to. “An awesome time even.”

Bruce’s sigh carried all the way to Tony’s ear, like the prelude of inevitable doom. “It’d also be a good time to remind you---again---that I’m not that kind of doctor,” Bruce replied, proving that the Hulk was no the only one in that body with a catchphrase. 

It was all beside the point anyway. When his attention went back to Barnes, Tony watched in horror as one of the nurses rolled a crash cart toward Steve’s BFF. Tony sighed. Certainly, things couldn’t possibly get worse. 

***

Bucky’s heart stopped twice during the procedure. 

Neither Tony nor the Wakandan doctors had any idea what had gone wrong. Tony couldn’t even tell if they had been successful in getting rid of the triggers and programming in Bucky’s head. Although, after being told what happened, the only thing Steve cared about was that Bucky was alive. Everything else could be dealt with later. At the moment, Bucky seemed to be peacefully sleeping off the heavy sedatives they had him under for the surgery, which put Steve’s heart somewhat at ease, at least for now.

He heard Tony’s footsteps halting at the threshold, and waited for him to say something. Steve didn’t miss the way he had been seconds from summoning a suit as he recounted what had happened. Once again, Tony had been afraid Steve would retaliate because of Bucky. Once again, he’d been close to being right. Steve wasn’t proud of it, but the first thought that went through his mind was that Tony had done it on purpose, that he faked his way through all of the Wakandan security and T’challa himself just so he could finish getting his revenge. 

But Steve knew Tony. Underneath all the bravado and the one-liners, there was a big heart, which had been broken way too many times. Plus, Steve was sure Tony had more reasons to hate  _ him _ than Bucky. If Tony had taken even a couple of minutes during the past months to think about what happened to his parents, he would have gotten to the conclusion---Steve was certain of it----that Bucky was as much a victim as Howard and Maria. 

For the time being, however, things were still awkward. Between the phone call and  Tony arriving---a day after Steve---with several computers he said would help Bucky, Tony and Steve hadn’t really had the time to sit down and talk. Steve had a feeling it was past time they addressed the elephant in the room, even if it was the last thing he felt like doing now. But Tony didn’t seem like he’d be the first to break the silence, either. So Steve let out a heavy breath and spoke without turning to look at him.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I don’t remember if I said it before,” this time he did look at Tony from over his shoulder, “but I’m really grateful for what you did… especially after---”

“We don’t even know if it worked,” Tony hurriedly cut in. He had always been uncomfortable with praise, so Steve let it go. “Seriously, Cap, I’ve no idea what happened in there,” he said again. “You’re lucky he’s alive.” 

Steve spent a lot of time thinking the same, but as the years went by, he began to see lucky had little to do with it. The serum was probably what kept Bucky alive; something he had never even asked for. Was it luck, and more importantly, did Bucky see it like that? Steve’s attention went back to him, letting his eyes travel Bucky’s features. The silence stretched long enough he had time to inspect Bucky twice over. 

This time, Tony was the one who broke it. “I could---” he hesitated, and Steve kept his eyes on Bucky to give him space. “I could build him another arm,” he said at last. It didn’t surprise Steve. Tony’s guilty conscience could go a long way. It was part of what split them up in the first place. “I’ve been talking with T’challa about it. He’s game if you are.”

“It’s Bucky’s decision,” Steve reminded quietly.

Tony inhaled sharply before taking a few cautious steps forward. “Steve,” he said, “I think you gotta prepare for---any case scenario really.” Steve’s jaw tightened instinctively. “I told you, I’ve no idea what happened. I don’t know if---  _ how _ he’ll wake up.”

“Whatever it is, he’ll walk it off,” Steve said with conviction, straightening his spine as he did so. “Bucky’s had worse.” 

“Well, when you put it like that...” Tony trailed off, but it was enough for Steve to feel the tug at the corners of his mouth. Perhaps there was still hope for their relationship after all. Maybe one day they could even go back to being friends. “Anyway,” Tony said after a moment of silence, “we’ll know more in a couple of hours, once he wakes up. You should, uh, you should go take a shower or something.” Out of the corner of his eye, Steve noticed Tony’s feet shuffling awkwardly like he didn’t know whether to stay or go. “He’ll be here when you come back. And I’m not gonna try to kill him or anything,” he added hurriedly. “Just so you know.”

In spite of everything that happened, or maybe because of it, Steve snorted as he looked up at Tony. “Thank you,” he said again, just as heartfelt. “For everything.” 

This time Tony didn’t try to deflect it with a joke. He shook his head, but Steve knew it had more to do with him trying to gather his thoughts than denying what Steve said. “I know there’s a  _ talk _ we gotta have at some point.” Steve nodded. “The three of us,” Tony added, “but maybe we should sit on that for a while.”

“Okay,” Steve agreed, with a nod. It was the closest the had ever gotten to actually discussing Siberia. And Tony was right, they must sit down and talk, put the card on the table, apologize and ask for forgiveness. But Bucky was out of commission at the moment, which meant Steve’s head wasn’t in the right place either, and Tony… Steve had had a feeling the wound was still too fresh for him to feel anything other than pain just yet. But there would come a time to mend things, Steve was hopeful.  

And it seemed like he wasn’t the only one.

Tentatively, Tony placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Get some rest, Cap.” 

And perhaps it was because of the nickname he hadn’t heard in a long time, or the fact Tony was willing to show affection toward him even after what Steve had done, but the words caused a lump to form in Steve’s throat. So he acknowledged Tony with a curt nod and otherwise kept his eyes on Bucky. Once they were alone again, Steve reached out for his hand.

***

“-evie?”

The croaked voice breached through the fog of sleep in Steve’s mind. For a moment he was disoriented. He blinked his eyes open and groaned as his spine protested the way he had fallen asleep, sitting on a chair beside Bucky’s---

Bucky.

Discomfort forgotten, Steve straightened his posture and looked up to find Bucky’s confused gaze on him. “Hey, Buck,” he greeted, squeezing the hand he hadn’t let go of as they slept. 

“What happened?” Bucky asked. He sounded rough, so Steve served him a glass of water as his brain put together an answer. He held the cup for Bucky to take a sip from the straw. He had just set it back on the table when he Bucky gasped. “My arm!”

It was Steve’s turn to look puzzled. Perhaps Bucky was still under some lingering effect of the sedatives. Steve tried to offer him a reassuring smile. 

Before he could say anything, though, Bucky continued, “It’s cos I fell,” Steve’s stomach dropped as if he were on a rollercoaster, “from the train, innit?” Bucky finished, cementing the heavy feeling inside Steve.

He needed to talk to Tony, but there was no way he could leave Bucky alone right now. “Wh-what’s the last thing you remember, Buck?” Bucky was still staring down at his missing limb, it didn’t seem like he had even heard the question. “Buck?”

“I’m crippled,” Bucky mumbled, more to himself than Steve. He pushed his hand from Steve’s to run it through his head. His eyes shot back to Steve again in surprise when all his fingers touched was stubble. “The hell happened to my hair?” Steve’s eyes stung. “Say something, Rogers!” Bucky cried out, unable to bear Steve’s silence. “What’s going on?” he asked again with a small voice, once the fire left him.

“You had brain surgery?” It sounded almost like a question, and Steve honestly wanted to kick himself for it. Bucky needed reassurance now, not Steve freaking out on him.

“Why? Cos of the fall?” Steve nodded. “Okay,” Bucky said, nodding to himself. “Okay. And the army is paying for this, right?” His eyes traveled the expanse of the room. “Whatever this place is, it looks really expensive,” he commented. “Where are we? What happened to Zola?”

Steve took a slow, deep breath. There was a lot he had to break for Bucky, and at the moment he had no idea how to even begin summarizing the last almost eighty decades into something comprehensible. Besides, part of him was still holding on to the hope that this was only the sedative still running on Bucky’s systems, and making him confused, or blocking something in his head, and that, in a moment or so, his memory would come back. Steve had to hope. The alternative was simply too cruel. Bucky fought so hard for those memories, it wouldn’t be fair to deprive him of them again. 

Nevertheless, the truth was not what came out of Steve’s lips when he spoke. “We were frozen,” he said. It was a simple explanation, and it would save him some time until they could figure out what was going on. “You when you fell, and me cos I went after Schmidt. We were under for seventy years.”

Bucky hummed, processing what Steve said. “And why do I have this thing on me?” he asked, jutting his chin toward the hunk of metal that constituted his left shoulder.

At that, Steve panicked and said the first thing that came to his mind. “The docs were thinking of giving you an arm---a prosthetic.”

“I’m gonna have a fake arm,” Bucky voiced the thought aloud, digesting it.  

“Maybe,” Steve tried, still holding on to his optimism, “maybe you should sleep some more, Buck.” He took Bucky’s hand in his again. He held it tight, like a promise. “We’ll talk more after you wake up. Maybe it’ll all make more sense then.” 

Bucky’s eyes studied Steve intensively for a moment. He seemed to be looking for something. A couple of heartbeats went by as he did so. When he broke the silence Steve still couldn’t tell if he had reached some kind of conclusion.“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Steve simply held his gaze, knowing Bucky would find the answer there. He did. “Oh,  _ God _ .” The realization came crashing down on Bucky, making his voice fail, and his breath hitch.

Instinct immediately compelled Steve to pull him into a hug. He carefully held as tight as he could, and Bucky latched on to him with just as much strength. Hiding his face in the hollow of Steve’s neck, Bucky drew in a shaky, wet breath. A mere prelude of what followed. With his face safely tucked against Steve’s shoulder, Bucky allowed himself to break, letting out silent, pained sobs that shook his whole body.

Steve’s own eyes burned with tears he couldn’t afford to shed now. He had to be strong for Bucky, just as Bucky had always been for him. Their whole lives, Bucky had always been there to---sometimes almost literally---pick up Steve’s pieces. He had always known how to put Steve back together. It was Steve’s time to do the same. He would figure it out whatever was going on. Silently, Steve promised. And at that moment, the fact that he hadn’t told Buck everything didn’t seem to matter so much, not when Steve was so sure he could fix this. 

At least once in his life, he would do right by Bucky.

***

Steve didn’t let anyone even near Bucky’s room. The medical staff complained to T’challa, not knowing Steve would have blocked his passage too if it was necessary. But in the end, he managed to settle into a sort of compromise where they could watch Bucky through the cameras and  _ would _ go over Steve if anything happened. It was enough for now, but Steve was well aware it wouldn’t hold. He couldn’t keep Bucky locked up in a hospital room forever, though at the same time Steve couldn’t bear to break his heart again. How could he even begin to explain what the last seven decades had been for Bucky? And, even though what he knew was enough to render him sleepless for a long time, Steve knew all he had was a very digested version of the truth. There was also all of Hydra’s documentation, but Steve would honestly rather burn those.

He spent the night staring at the adorned ceiling of the guest suite. He wanted to go and stay by Bucky’s side, but he had been sleeping soundly the last time Steve went to check on him, and Steve didn’t want to disturb him.

At the first sign of sunlight peeking out of the mountain, Steve gave up the push-up session he’d been at since four thirty. He took a shower and didn’t spare a single glance at the razor as he brushed his teeth. Once he was dressed, Steve went in search of somebody who could tell him where to get breakfast. Even with the elephant memory, the serum gave him, Steve had a hard time navigating the palace, especially since he hadn’t exactly been given the tour the last time he had been there. He didn’t even know where Tony was. 

After getting directions it was easier to find the royal kitchen. Using a mixture of English and hand gestures he managed to get a hold of a cart full of food, which he wheeled to the elevator that led him to the medical area, and then, finally, to Bucky.

He was already awake. And he had either somehow managed to figure out how to work the bed into a sitting position, or someone had been there to do it for him. He was staring at what was left of his metal shoulder. 

“Hey, Buck,” Steve greeted with a smile. “Sleep well?”

Bucky made an awkward movement as he began to shrug but gave up halfway through it, and decided to shake his head instead. “Had a weird dream,” he said. Steve’s heart skipped a beat. He held his breath and waited for Bucky to tell him he remembered, to ask Steve why he had lied. “You had a huge Hydra symbol tattooed on your chest,” Bucky said. Steve couldn’t tell if the breath that escaped him was disappointment or relief. Bucky went on, “And you could talk to the Red Skull’s ghost.”Steve let out a light, surprised chuckle, and, without thinking too much of it, grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and lift the fabric up to his neck. “Hate to disappoint.” Bucky snorted. It seemed like his gaze lingered a bit as Steve lowered back his T-shirt, but it was probably just Steve’s imagination. 

He cleared his throat and looked down at the food that was going cold. “I brought breakfast,” he said, rolling the cart toward the bed. 

“Smells nice,” Bucky commented, eyeing the plates with interest. “what is it?” 

“I don’t really know,” Steve said. “Guess we’ll find out.”

They would definitely have to ask the names later so that they could ask for it again. It was delicious, and together they polished every single plate Steve had brought in companionable silence. Steve waited a moment for the food to settle in their stomachs, then piled the plates on the cart and pushed it to the corner. 

“Buck,” he started as he sat down.

“I know what you’re gonna say,” Bucky cut in, causing Steve’s heart to leap again in a mix of dread and hope. As much as he hated the thought of Bucky being stripped of his memories again, part of Steve was glad he at least had an excuse to keep him here, safe. But again, Bucky and he was not on the same page. “You must be wondering how I survived. I---I---” He lowered his head and spoke to his lap. “Zola did something to me.”

“I know,” Steve admitted, deeming it safe to do so without raising questions he couldn’t answer yet. Bucky glanced up at him through his lashes. “I mean, I figured,” Steve said. And it was not a lie. He  _ had _ noticed the small changes in Bucky back then. They had spent way too much time together for Steve not to be able to tell the shift in the way Bucky held himself, how he slept less and couldn’t seem to miss targets that should have been impossible for a  simple human eye to catch. Only Steve didn’t put two and two together until much, much later. “I know you didn’t ask for it---any of it---but I’m glad you’re alive, Buck.”

Bucky seemed to consider Steve’s words for some time. When he finally raised his head he didn’t look as haunted anymore. “Well, at least we’re together, huh,” he said, offering Steve a lopsided smile, which Steve responded with one of his own. They stared at each other for a moment, before Bucky broke the silence with a deep inhale and a loud exhale. “Alright,” he said, straightening up his back as if he was gearing up for something. “The future. Walk me through it.” Steve got as far as opening his mouth before Bucky suddenly perked with excitement and spoke again. “Wait, are there flying cars?”

“Sorry, pal,” Steve said, genuinely sad to disappoint Bucky. “Though, with the way people drive these days it’s probably for the best we stick to the ground,” he explained. Bucky nodded along. “But there’s a bunch of other stuff I’m sure you’ll love.”  _ Stuff you already knew how to use... better than me _ , Steve thought bitterly. He tried not to let it show on his face.

Judging by the look Bucky was giving him, he wasn’t being very successful. “You okay?” He jutted his chin at Steve’s head. “Seemed like you got lost in there for a second.” 

Steve did his best to shake himself out of it and tried to offer Bucky a reassuring smile. “Honestly, pretty much everything you wanna know is on the internet, so---” He fished his phone from his pocket and unlocked the screen. “Scoot,” he asked, getting off the chair and sitting down on the bed next to Bucky. It wasn’t as narrow as most hospital cots, but they still had to press their legs together for Steve to fit. Once he was more or less comfortable, he turned the screen in a way they both could see it. “Now, this---” Steve said as he opened the browser app, “is the internet.”

***

One of the doctors eventually came to check on Bucky. Much to Steve’s relief, she didn’t mention anything about Bucky’s memory, though she implied they might need to do some exams on him soon. But mostly, she was surprised by Bucky’s rapid recovery, humming approvingly as she inspected the sutures on his head. When Steve asked if it would take long to get them off she explained they would come off on their own. 

Bucky didn’t say much during the consultation, but Steve couldn’t not notice how relaxed he was. The last time someone in a white coat had come near him, Bucky almost made a dent on the cot with how tight he gripped it. And now, it didn’t seem to bother him at all, on the contrary, he looked almost curious about the whole thing. It brought back the bittersweet feeling on Steve’s gut. Bucky was alright like this---but it wasn’t real. 

Before the doctor left, Bucky asked her if he could take a walk outside and she cleared him to it. So Steve helped find Bucky a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, then they went to the garden that faced the back of the hospital. They walked slowly. Steve took his time to admire the lush green that seemed to go on forever and the cloudless blue sky. He kept quiet, figuring Bucky was probably sorting out the decades of information Steve had just dumped on him. 

“You know, I’ve been here before,” Bucky broke the silence. “The continent, I mean.” He frowned at the ground like he was looking for something. “I can’t remember which country. It was before you joined us.”

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned,” Steve said, as his mind replayed a long lost hushed conversation around a cold can of beans.

“Do you think we did good? I mean, from all those things you showed me---looks like people just keep repeating the same mistakes.”

“That’s humanity for ya,” Steve commented without really thinking, as he watched a flock of birds flying over their heads. 

“Hell, Rogers,” Bucky said, letting out a low whistle. “That’s bleak.” Steve looked away from the birds to find Bucky’s knitted brows on him. “Since when are you a pessimist?”

“I’m not,” Steve said defensively. “It’s just---” he started, noticing absently that they had stopped. “Things aren’t as black and white as they used to be. We could see right from wrong a mile away, or at least we thought we could, and it was enough. It’s not like that anymore.” Steve didn’t see himself as a pessimist, but he couldn’t help feeling hopeless as he spoke. He tried to shake it out by adding, “People are still trying to do their best, though.” He nudged Bucky’s shoulder with his own, offering him a private smile. “Just like we did.” 

Steve’s eyes then locked on Bucky’s, and for a moment they shared a kind of look they never had before. Steve couldn’t tell what was different about it, but it pulled at something inside of him. Whatever it was, it was broken by Tony’s sudden presence. 

“You don’t call, you don’t write,” Tony said as he approached them. From the corner of his eye, Steve could practically see the cogs in Bucky’s brain trying to place the familiar face. “You don’t knock on my door on the other side of the palace. Seriously, did you  _ ask _ to be this far away from me?” Only when he stopped to breathe did Tony seem to notice Bucky. “Oh, uh. How you feelin’, Terminator?”

“Fine,” Bucky said, though it sounded almost like a question. “Sorry, do we know each other?”

“Buck, this is Tony Stark,” Steve said, hoping Tony would let him lead this. “Howard’s son.”

“Oh! Nice to meet you.” Bucky extended his hand to Tony, who stared at it, like it was a snake about to attack him, for a bit too long before finally accepting the handshake.

“Holy shit, Rogers,” Tony let out, completely ignoring Bucky’s indignant  _ excuse me _ as he pulled his hand free. Tony didn’t seem to even notice, his eyes kept intensively studying Bucky.  “He doesn’t---”

“Bucky just woke up, Tony, come on!” Steve said, hurriedly. 

“I don’t know what happened,” Tony muttered, mostly to himself,  staring at nothing. Steve was pretty sure he was replaying the surgery in his head, to try to find what he might have missed.

“Well,” Bucky said, drawing both Steve and Tony’s attention back to him, “welcome to the club, pal. I fell off a train and then woke in the future. I don’t understand anything.” 

Steve did his best to avoid Tony’s gaze, which he could feel boring on him with questions. He had only vaguely explained Bucky’s situation last night, emphasizing his theory that it could just be the sedatives still wearing off. At the time, Tony seemed more than happy to buy it, but now he looked about ready to drag Bucky back to a lab to see what went wrong. 

“Rogers,” Tony called, once he realized Steve wouldn’t look at him, “a word.”

“I don’t think now is a good time, Tony,” Steve said. “I have to help Bucky.”

“Oh, I’m alright,” Bucky said, even though he still looked like he was not completely sure of what was going on. “You go do your thing, pal.” He clapped Steve on the shoulder, oblivious to Steve’s inner turmoil. “I can find my way back.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asked, not only because he didn’t want to go with Tony, but he also wouldn’t leave Bucky alone if he needed Steve. 

But when Steve looked at him for confirmation, all he got was a nod and an  _ I’m fine, really _ from Bucky. “You don’t gotta hold my hand,” he tried to joke, but the set of his shoulders was still much too tense to pull it off. Nonetheless, it was clear he meant it. 

“Great!” Tony clapped his hands then turned around and started heading back towards the medical building, shouting: “Let’s go, Cap!” And Steve had no other alternative than to follow him inside, leaving Bucky with a slightly amused smile on his face.

Tony led Steve through several long hallways until he finally stopped at one of the several doors in a large open area, Steve supposed it was reserved for guests. It was similar to where Steve himself was staying.Tony opened the door for them and, seeing they were out of anyone’s earshot, opened his mouth as well.

“What the fuck? What the fuck?” He gestured at something behind Steve, meaning the outside, meaning  _ Bucky _ . “Did I do that?” He gripped his hair with both hands like he was about to pull off a wig. “Did I  _ wipe  _ him?” The slight tremor in his voice betrayed how scared he was. 

Steve would like nothing more than to take the guilty look off of Tony’s face, but he couldn’t lie to one more person. “I don’t know,” he said the truth instead.

“Alright, alright,” Tony said. “So let me get him back in the lab.” He started pacing, and probably calculating things in his head.  “I’ll run some tests. We can reverse this.” 

There was a floor to ceiling glass wall behind Tony. It faced the forests, but some parts of the city were also visible on the horizon. Steve stared at the mountains of vibranium over Tony’s head. A long time ago he thought he owned all the vibranium the world had at its disposal. It made him feel better now, to know that, at least, he didn’t have that weight on his shoulders anymore. There were so many times he thought he didn’t deserve it---he bit his lower lip--- especially now.

“Steve?”

“What if this is for the best?” Steve’s heartbeat quicken as he voiced the thought that had been running through his head since morning.

“What,” Tony asked in a mixture of frowning and a breathy laugh of disbelief. “What are you saying?”

“Maybe this is Bucky’s second chance,” Steve said, almost pleadingly. He felt something akin to hope threatening to bloom within him. Maybe, just maybe, what happened didn’t have to be a bad thing. “Maybe he can start over.” Bucky could be in peace. He could be  _ happy _ . 

“Come on, Cap,” Tony said, kinder than Steve had ever heard him being. “You know better than this. His face is all over the news!” It was almost as if he were breaking complex information to a child, though he didn’t sound condescending.

“Not here,” Steve argued. “We could ask T’challa for asylum. He would be free, Tony. From all of it.” And Steve could do right by him, for the first time in his life, perhaps now he could help Bucky in someway. Even if it wasn’t real. After all, real had never been kind to any of them.

Tony shook his head. “I don’t know about this, Steve. Your plan looks full of holes. And this is  _ me _ talking,” he said, pointing at his own chest, “the guy who made the sentient psychotic robot, remember?”

“I know,” Steve said. “And I’ll bear the consequences, whatever they are. But I’m gonna give Bucky this chance.” And though it wasn’t in him to run away from things, he was pretty sure that conversation wasn’t going anywhere so he turned around, and was ready to leave when Tony spoke again, stopping him.

“Doesn’t look like you’re giving him the chance to choose,” he pointed out. “And anyway, what happens when he wakes up remembering everything,” Steve kept his back to Tony and his mouth tightly shut, “and he realizes you’ve been lying to him?”

Steve knew all of that, he was pretty sure he had already considered most scenarios in which thing could go wrong. He was well aware of the risks. But he also wanted to offer Bucky the chance of a normal life again, one without a past to weight on his shoulders. A life where nobody meddled with his brain like he were a lab experiment. Bucky deserved that freedom. That resolve was all Steve needed to walk away from Tony without giving him an answer.

***

T’challa didn’t agree with Steve’s plan either, but he kept his promise of helping Bucky and told Steve they could stay for as long as they needed. He also reminded Steve that his little sister would be of a lot more help than he could, though Steve declined when he offered to ask her to come back from her trip earlier. Steve couldn’t possibly impose on them any more than he already had. All he needed was some peace and quiet so that Bucky could heal. They just needed a break, even if it didn’t last long. 

Once Bucky was discharged from the medical quarters, he immediately opted for staying with Steve, rather than taking one of the empty guess apartments in the same corridor. Steve, of course, had to ask, to make sure that was really what he wanted, to which Bucky answered:

“I’ll just stick with you,” he had said like it was the most obvious thing and offering Steve a private grin. “Not like it’s the first time, right.” 

Something tightened inside Steve. He finally had Bucky’s trust again, after so long. Only he didn’t deserve it anymore because now Steve was downright lying to him. “Yeah,” he said, a moment too late to go unnoticed by the new old version of Bucky in front of him.

His confidence dimmed. He scratched the back of his head and avoid Steve’s eyes. “Unless---” he said, looking embarrassed and out of place, it wasn’t a look Steve was used to seeing in him, even after everything. “Maybe now you’re used to having your own space ---” 

But Steve, pushing down the self-doubt, just shook his head, dismissing the idea as if Bucky were talking nonsense, which he might as well had been. “Nah,” he put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, the familiarity of the gesture causing both of them to relax, “it’d be weird without you.”

Bucky’s eyes met Steve’s again then, and for the first time in years, they held each other’s gaze with nothing but their own history between them. There were no monsters, apart from the War, there was no torture, no pain, no regrets; nothing they shared at that moment but the intertwined lives of two kids from a poor neighborhood, which, right then, didn’t feel so lost in time. 

“I missed you like crazy, Buck,” Steve breathed out before he even realized he was speaking. 

Bucky offered him the smile Steve  _ knew _ was reserved only for him. It made his heart beat faster. “I’m here now, punk. And I ain’t going nowhere.” 

With his throat constricted, all Steve had to offer as an answer was a smile of his own. He could feel, by the hurt on his cheeks, that it was too wide, too bright, but he couldn’t help it, and he didn’t care. 

So, together, they dragged a bed---with Steve carrying most of the weight, even though Bucky complained the whole time he could share it---to the room Steve was staying in and rearranged the two beds next to one another. Once they were satisfied with the position, the two of them dropped down unceremoniously on the new bed. 

Bucky was the first one to speak. “Doc told me about a fake arm,” he started, turning his head to face Steve. “She said it’d work just like my real arm, they just have to attach it.”

“Yeah?” Steve said cautiously. He wondered what was told to T’challa’s staff about his plan of letting Bucky figure things out on his own. “That what you want?”

“I dunno, maybe? It’d certainly be an improvement from my current situation. I mean,” he smirked, “guy’s gotta tie his own shoes.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Seriously, though, I think I might say yes.”

“Whatever you decide---” Steve started, only to pause mid-sentence as he shook his head. “You’re free to choose.” Even if Bucky didn’t remember, Steve held the importance of those words himself. “Anything you want, Buck.” 

“Anything?” Bucky asked in a voice that was almost a whisper. The intensity in his eyes told Steve he might have meant more than just the arm, but so had Steve. He wanted Bucky to be able to make every single decision in his life without any interference. Steve wanted Bucky’s will to be his own again. But it felt like they were talking about different things. 

“Hate to interrupt,” Tony’s voice shattered the tension like a rock thrown at glass. “Whatever is going on there.” 

Steve and Bucky scurried to a sitting position, like children caught stealing cookies before dinner. 

“Do people don’t knock in the future?” Bucky mumbled under his breath, sounding almost too annoyed for someone who hadn’t extended knowledge on Tony. 

“Ain’t nobody got time for that, Buckaroo,” Tony replied. “Anyway, I just came here to announce my departure from this lovely land.” He shot Steve an accusatory look, which Steve tried his best to ignore. “Feels like I’m overstaying my usefulness.”

“I’m sure T’Challa wouldn’t mind you staying,” Steve said. “If that’s---if that’s why you’re going,” he added, playing dumb. Tony had made explicitly clear how he felt about Steve’s plan. Steve couldn’t blame him. However, after everything they had been through, it would have been nice to have Tony in his corner again. 

It didn’t seem like that’d be the case, though. 

Tony shuffled on his feet; hands in his pockets. “I’ll keep that prehistoric thing you gave me on.”  It was an olive branch---mentioning the cell phone---which Steve accepted with a nod. “Yeah, okay. I, uh, bye,” Tony muttered. Then he turned on his heels and all but ran from the room. 

“The hell was that?” Bucky asked the moment Tony disappeared. 

“We, uh, had a disagreement some time ago,” Steve explained, which was a huge understatement, but also not untruth. “We’re good now---” the fact that they were back on speaking terms, that Tony would even offer to help Bucky, it was a big improvement, even if their conversations were still strained. “But things are still a bit weird.”

Bucky turned around then, crossing a leg over the other, to face Steve. “What did’ya fight about?”

“Different opinions,” Steve said with a shrug. Bucky snorted. “What?”

“Steve Rogers won’t change his mind?” Bucky said with a raised eyebrow. 

With a resigned sigh, Steve let himself fall back on the bed. There would be no point in arguing the case, but--- _ by God _ \---was it good to talk to this version of Bucky again, the one that knew Steve like that back of his own hand, the one who shared a past with him.  “You know me,” Steve said, testing the feeling on the tip of his tongue. 

“That I do,” Bucky agreed---unaware of the significance of those words---bumping their knees together and offering him a fond smile that made Steve’s stomach flutter for some reason. “That I do.”

***

Between the two of them, Bucky had always been the first to adjust to any new situation; be it the Depression, or whenever they had to move apartments---each one smaller and colder than the other---and even, Steve thought, the War. So it came as no surprise to him how, in only a few weeks, Bucky had not only accepted the fact that he was almost eighty years into the future but also completely acclimated to his new surroundings. It did help that Bucky was a big nerd, and Wakanda was the most technologically advanced country in the world. It must feel like a giant world fair to him. And that was what Steve was afraid of. At that moment, Bucky was a kid on vacation, but sooner or later he would want to go home.

None of Bucky’s memories from after the fall had returned yet, so Steve decided to approached at least this one subject before it came biting him in this ass. 

He found Bucky talking to one of T’challa’s royal guards. Bucky was talking to her in one of the dialects spoken in Wakanda. Steve had picked up a few things himself, but Bucky had always been much better than him with languages as well. His Hydra file stated he was fluent in at least seven of them. If that was a sign Bucky was recovering his memory, Steve couldn’t tell.

From what Steve could gather as he approached, they were sharing war stories. 

It wasn’t long before Bucky noticed his presence. He turned around and, at the sight of Steve, the guard excused herself and left them alone. It was as she could sense Steve had something serious to discuss. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time he was accused of wearing his heart on his sleeve.

“You look like a man on a mission,” Bucky said once they were alone. He put his hand over his chest. “Sorry, I mean,  _ with a plan _ .” He smirked.

“You’re an ass, Barnes.” The comment only caused Bucky to throw his head back and laugh harder. Steve rolled his eyes, though the effect was lost because he couldn’t quite keep the smile off his face. “Hey,” he said as Bucky’s laughter died down, “let’s take a walk.”

Without saying a word, Bucky simple fell in step with him, as Steve started for the door. They followed an open green path, which led them to where the river met a few small waterfalls. The water was so clear, and calm, despite the waterfalls, that Steve could see some of the colorful fish swimming along the current. 

“This place is beautiful,” he voiced the thought, barely aware he was doing it. Bucky agreed with a hum. Steve looked up at him to find that his attention was somewhere over the mountains. Other tribes lived there, but they all recognized T’challa as their king. It all seemed peaceful, though Steve had been told it was because he wasn’t here when everything almost fell apart. It was a reminder: no one nowhere was without problems. “It’s beautiful,” he repeated, this time simply to get Bucky’s attention. “But it’s not home.”

Bucky’s eyes found Steve’s, there was sadness behind them, but not heartbreak. “I know,” he said. He went back to watching the distant mountains. “I figured we could do far worse.” 

“Buck---” 

“I’m not stupid, Steve,” Bucky interrupted. “I’ve done the math. It’s been a long time. We’re dead for home,” Steve pretended not to hear the slight tremor in his voice. He watched the river. “And home is dead for us too, innit?” 

“Not for me,” Steve said, glancing up, although Bucky wasn’t looking at him.

Bucky scoffed. “What? You got family waiting for you back in Brooklyn?” 

Rationally, Steve knew Bucky wasn’t aiming to hurt him, but at that moment, that was not how he felt. “No, Barnes,” he retorted angrily, “I got family right here.” And, because sometimes Steve just did not think before he spoke, he added, “Or at least I thought I had,” before storming off and leaving Bucky alone with the faraway tribes and the colorful fish.

***

Whereas Bucky had acclimated to most of Wakanda, for Steve, apart from their room, there was only one place he felt at ease. Perhaps it was because of his childhood memories, either for being sick or simply coming along with his mother to work, but the medical wing was the place Steve often found himself heading to those days.

Most days it was practically, if not completely, empty. But every once and again there would be a hurt soldier or a patient getting treatment for some chronic condition. Overall, it was the most peaceful hospital Steve had ever set foot in. Asha, one of the nurses who bore with his constant presence, told Steve that most common diseases from other countries had long been eradicated in Wakanda. 

“What is wrong?” Asha had a heavy accent, but her concern, much as her English, was perfectly fluent. She had kept working for a few more minutes after Steve entered, rapidly typing something in the hologram computers. Only when she was done---or perhaps on a break---did she swivel her chair around to face Steve.

He answered with a shake of his head. If Steve was to be honest, he couldn't really tell  _ why _ he had gotten so upset with what Bucky had said. All he knew was that it had hurt him. 

“That boy of yours giving you trouble?” She pressed because, apparently, Steve was as good as an open book.  

“He said something,” Steve tried to explain, “he didn’t mean anything by it---” It wasn’t Bucky’s fault, Steve had to make that clear. 

Asha simply reached out to pat him on the knee. Then she said something to Steve in her native tongue, which he was still learning, so all he got was a single word:  _ love _ .

***

Steve had no idea where Bucky spent the rest of his day. He was already in bed, sketching idly when Bucky finally came to their room. The clock on Steve’s phone said it was close to midnight.

Steve kept his eyes on the half shaded Brooklyn Bridge on paper, even though his concentration had flown out off the window the moment he heard the door.

“Are you just going to ignore me,” Bucky started, “without even telling me what the hell did I do wrong?”

Steve closed the sketchbook, leaving the pencil inside, marking the page. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out, as his eyes finally met Bucky. “You think there’s no one left in this world for you.” It wasn’t a question, but Steve didn’t voice it as an accusation either. “I don’t count.”

Bucky shook his head. “I can’t---” He started pacing in front of their beds. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Where the  _ fuck _ did you get that from?”

Steve frowned at him. It suddenly felt like they were having two different conversations. “You said home is dead.”

“The place, Steve,” Bucky argued. “The people. My  _ family _ \---” He came to a halt then. And, with a sigh, sat down at Steve’s feet. “I meant what we both lost.” He placed a hand on Steve’s left ankle, gave it a squeeze and kept his hand there. Steve was almost certain Bucky didn’t even notice he was doing it. “We  _ both _ ,” he repeated. “What? You think I don’t know we got each other? Steve!” Bucky shifted on the bed to bring a knee over the other. Steve’s eyes stang. “You think I’d be this fine with all of this if you weren’t here?”

“You’d survived,” Steve said because that was exactly what Bucky had done without Steve.

“And you think that’s all I want for my life? Survive?”

“I’m sorry, Buck. I acted like a child,” Steve admitted, dropping his shoulders. “I don’t know what came over me. I just---” he lowered his gaze and studied the worn leather of his sketchbook. “I had to spend some time without you---it was hard.” He had never said that aloud. Not to Peggy, nor Sam or Natasha. It was a bit liberating, like finally opening a window in a stuffed room, and letting the fresh air in. But mostly, it scared him. Steve had always taken a lot of pride in his independence. To admit that he needed something or someone like that? It didn’t come easy.

“Hey,” Bucky called, absently running his hand up and down Steve’s ankle. He waited for Steve to look at him. “You’re my family.” His eyes were shiny. Steve suspected his weren’t any better. “I’m with you 'til the end of the line.” 

The renewed promised caused something to untie in Steve’s chest. 

***

A week later Bucky received the new prosthetic. The surgery was brief and, once it was over, he had a new---and as far as he knew, the only---model, made of vibranium, attached to his shoulder. It was a dark chrome color, with golden vines where the plates met. There was no brand in this one. And, most importantly, it didn’t cause Bucky any pain. The weight had been calculated based on his other arm. To Steve’s surprise, Tony had nothing to do with it. It was all Shuri, T’challa’s little sister, who had the model ready practically a month after she first set eyes on Bucky. Steve wasn’t sure she would appreciate the fact they went ahead without her being there, but this was one of the cases where he couldn’t bring himself to do the right thing and insist on waiting for her.

Be that as it may, the improvement on Bucky’s life was instant. Muscle memory quickly kicked in, and he was using the arm just like he used the previous one, like he used the right one, in no time at all. Bucky took each change much better than Steve would have expected. Steve was really proud of him.

“Hi,” Bucky said, sitting down on the grass next to him. 

“Hey, Buck,” Steve replied without taking his eyes off the page where he was reproducing the majestic panther surrounded by water in front of him.

“Mind if I make you company? I miss watching you draw.” 

They used to spend hours like that. Sitting quietly, side by side. Sometimes on the floor, on the balcony, trying to fend off the wet summer heat; sometimes Steve would be bedridden and Bucky would have a book, and he’d sit in an uncomfortable chair, pretending he wasn’t there to take care of Steve, because he knew Steve would throw the sketchbook at his head if he tried to pamper him. 

During the War, Bucky would sneak in stubs of pencils and dirty pieces of paper to Steve whenever he could. Steve never knew how he managed to get a hold of those things, what he traded it for, but he’d thank Bucky with funny sketches of the Commandos and detailed drawings of Rebecca or Bucky’s ma. But, as time went on, the supplies became harder to find, and the only free time Steve had was the moments he had to sleep. 

It had been a really long time since they both could simply relax and enjoy each other’s company like this. Though now that they were here, Steve kept feeling Bucky’s eyes on him every now and again, and he couldn’t help stealing a few glances himself. At each glance, Steve noticed something different. It was like he was seeing Bucky for the first time. He noticed how long Bucky’s hair already was; how his gray eyes were bluer at the sunlight; how he already had a couple of gray hairs on his beard. Absently, Steve realized neither of them bothered shaving those days, though Bucky still trimmed his beard sometimes.

Above all, Steve reconnected with something he hadn’t really given much thought in the past seventy plus years. He realized, with something akin to shock, that he had almost forgotten how beautiful Bucky was. When he was younger he tried not to think about it much. It used to make him even more self-conscious of his own body, and Steve had to admit that, as a teenager, he’d even been a bit jealous of what puberty had done for Bucky. 

Steve didn’t have a name for how he felt now when he looked at Bucky. It wasn’t jealousy--- hadn’t been since they were kids---it was something different, something Steve couldn’t remember ever feeling before, and with it, that old comforting sensation of  _ home _ .

“Roger? Steve!”

Registering Bucky’s voice, Steve blinked himself back to the present. “Sorry. What?”

“You’re staring,” Bucky pointed out, then he lowered his hand and studied the grass blades between his fingers. “Whatcha lookin’ at?” If Steve didn’t know any better, he would have said Bucky seemed to be blushing a little. It was probably Steve’s imagination.

“You?” He answered truthfully, though it sounded like a question, so he shook his head and tried again. “You. I was looking at you.”

Without raising his head, Bucky shot Steve a side glance through his lashes. “Why?”

_ Because I can now, and it’s been a long time since I could. Because I missed you more than I thought I could bear. Because you are so goddamn important to me _ . The replies instantly filled Steve’s brain, but they all felt too loaded for the moment. So he settled on something lighter, though it wasn’t any less true. “I miss drawing you.”

Bucky let out an amused breathy laugh. “Come on, Stevie. You’ve got all this beautiful stuff all around---you don’t have to waste the paper with this old mug.”

“Since when are you modest, Barnes?” Steve asked with a raised eyebrow. Bucky was a goddamn peacock. He had always been completely aware of his looks, and he would use it in his favor whenever he needed. 

“Not modest,” Bucky rebuked with a shrug. “Just want you to explore your options, it’s all,” he said, leaning backward until he was lying on the grass, arms crossed behind his back to pillow his head. Then he let out a long exhale, announcing he was comfortable at last. A peacock with the personality of a cat. 

Steve accepted as the end of the conversation. The scenario was familiar enough to him. Bucky would be asleep in a matter of minutes. So Steve went back to his drawing and, once he was done with the panther, he turned the sketchbook to a blank page and his eyes to his favorite subject.

***

A few days later, Bucky had his first nightmare. They had both fallen asleep on his bed, watching an animal documentary on Steve’s laptop. Steve remembered arguing about the lion cubs’ survival versus the lives of the antelopes being chased by the lionesses; then the next thing he knew, he was awakened by a punch in the stomach, with a metal arm. It only took opening his eyes to notice Bucky hadn’t meant to hit him. He was thrashing in his sleep, fighting off invisible restraints. 

Steve got out of the bed. 

It took a few tries of calling Bucky’s name---Steve knew better than to touch---to get him to finally stop struggling and open his eyes. They were out of focus for a moment, wide and really white. 

Steve slowly raised his hands in a universal sign of surrender. “Buck? You with me? I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Bucky simply blinked at him in confusion for a couple of seconds, before shaking his head as if to clear it. “Steve?” He frowned. He wasn’t sure, Steve realized. Steve held his breath. “Hurt me? What are you talking about? What happened?”

“You were having a nightmare,” Steve said, sitting down next to Bucky, though he kept some distance in case Bucky didn’t feel comfortable with their proximity just yet. He waited in silence for a couple of minutes until it seemed like Bucky was more aware of his surroundings, and had actually registered Steve’s words. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Bucky breathed out. “I can’t remember---” he said as he studied his hands, particularly the left one, “the nightmare.” He looked up at Steve. His eyes were clearer, but still a bit hazy. Then, something seemed to lit up and his eyes went wide again. “God! I hit you.”

“It’s okay,” Steve immediately assured him, eager to take the worried frown off Bucky’s face. “You weren’t trying to hit me.”

“But I did, didn’t I?” Bucky insisted, moving forward, hands outstretched, toward Steve. “Let me see.”

“‘S just a graze,” Steve said even as he sighed and allowed Bucky to manhandle him to pull Steve’s T-shirt up. “See?” Sure enough, there was only a pinkish circle above Steve’s belly button, which would be gone in a few minutes. It had actually been fading from the moment he woke up. He hadn’t been lying, it hadn’t been a hard hit, but it  _ had _ been hard enough to leave a mark and knock some of the air from Steve’s lungs. He was fine though, and he needed Bucky to see that.

This time, Bucky’s right hand came up at a slower pace, his brow knitted in concern.  “Does it hurt?” He asked as he ghosted his fingers over the fading bruise. 

The light touch caused goosebumps to flood Steve’s whole body. He shivered. His mouth felt suddenly dry and he didn’t trust his voice right then, so he simply shook his head to answer Bucky’s question. No, it didn’t hurt. Whatever Steve was feeling at the moment couldn’t have been further from pain. 

He looked from Bucky’s hand to his face and found his eyes fixed on him. Something shifted between them. It threw Steve off, but it also seemed to finally set him on the right direction, like the path was, at last, being revealed to him, after spending his whole life wandering in the mist. And Bucky, he held Steve’s gaze, but he was just as paralyzed by the force of it---until he wasn’t. He was leaning forward, and he wasn’t stopping, not when his nose bumped into Steve’s, not when he adjusted his head to fit their mouths together. Bucky moved slowly. Steve could have stopped him. 

He didn’t. 

He closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and kissed Bucky back. 

Bucky’s right hand came to rest at the base of Steve’s neck, and he lightly ran his fingers through the short hairs Steve had there. Steve placed one of his hands over Bucky’s left one, while the other held tight to the bed sheet beneath them, to ground Steve, prove the moment was real, that Steve was not the one who had been dreaming all along. 

But it wasn’t a dream. They were awake and this was happening. Bucky broke the kiss with a breathy chuckle. “Hey, Stevie,” he said with the kind of smile Steve had spent most of his adult life seeing Bucky throw at the women he wanted to dance or spend the night with. 

“Hey, Buck.” They were still close enough that they were sharing the same hot air, coming from one another. It should have felt uncomfortable, but that was the last word Steve would have used to describe the moment.

“I really like you,” Bucky said in a husky voice, still caressing Steve’s nape, “thought you should know that.” He leaned forward to rest their foreheads together and, though it was hard to focus when they were that close, Steve noticed how alive Bucky’s eyes were, how beautiful he was. 

Steve squeezed his hand. “You too,” he said. “You’re so goddamn important to me, Buck. Don’t you  _ ever _ forget that.” He knew he was being too intense, he might even be freaking Bucky out a little, but Steve had to tell him. They had to be on the same page, at least on this. 

Bucky offered him a soft smile as an answer, before he asked, “Can I kiss you again?”

This should be a major change in their lives, and in some ways it was, but if Steve had to be honest, it all felt more like the natural progression of their relationship, rather than a big revelation. It was like that moment, right then, was where they had been heading to their whole lives. So Steve smirked. “I dunno, Barnes.” He lifted an inquisitive eyebrow at Bucky. “Can you?”

Bucky chuckled out a  _ punk _ and made quick work of shutting Steve up.

***

Steve woke up to the sound of Bucky’s heartbeat on his right ear, and the metallic hum of his phone on his left one. He raised his head from Bucky’s chest and turned to pick the phone from the nightstand. He checked the caller ID. It was Sam.

Steve felt immediately bad. He had been on radio silence since he came back to Wakanda. He had been so worried about Bucky that he had basically been ignoring his other friends. Trust Sam to call Steve on his bullshit. Natasha was good at that too, but she had yet to be found, and Steve knew that wouldn’t happen until she felt safe enough, until she felt they were _all_ safe enough. And Sam, as much as he enjoyed calling Steve a mother hen, could be even worse when he was worried. The silence from Steve’s end was probably not helping that either.

He padded his way out of the room and waited until he was far enough that he wouldn’t disturb Bucky’s sleep to pick the call up.

“Hey, Sam,” Steve said, trying and failing to be casual.

“Rogers, what the fuck is going on over there?” Sam huffed a frustrated sound. “It’s been two months!”

“I know,” Steve said, even though he had not realized it had been that long. He probably wouldn’t, if Sam hadn’t pointed out. “Things are a bit ---” he scratched the back of his head as he searched his brain for the end of the sentence. He came up blank and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I’m in love with him.”

On the other side of the line, Sam choked on something. Steve waited patiently for the coughing fit to die out. “Since the forties?” Sam asked in a tone higher than his normal voice, once he could speak again.

“No,” Steve answered automatically. Then he thought better. “I don’t know---maybe.” He could  _ feel _ his cheeks heating up. It was ridiculous. “It’s---I don’t---we kissed.”

“And because you guys kissed, you think you’re in love? Or did you kiss him because you like him?” Sam was trying to bring logic to Steve’s fragmented explanation, Steve could see that, but he didn’t like those implications. 

“I like him,” Steve said with conviction. “I didn’t know what to call, what I was feeling, but it’s pretty clear now. I’m not mistaking this for whatever you think I’m mistaking this.”

Sam snorted. “Don’t psychoanalyze me psychoanalyzing you. But yeah, if you’re sure about your feelings that’s great, man. Do you think he’s okay, though? I mean, is his mind in the right place to start a relationship right now? Cos I don’t know what Stark did, but the last time I saw your boy he was definitely not okay.”

“Wait, Tony didn’t talk to you?”

“Uh, no, I haven’t really seen him since---you know.” Since Tony put all of them in jail. Sam wasn’t the kind of person to hold grudges, but Steve knew how much his feud with Tony had hurt all of their friends. He also knew perfectly well that Sam and the others only got caught because they were covering for Steve and Bucky. They had stayed behind to give them a chance. Steve would never forget that, and--- he thought bitterly---he would never be able to pay it back either. 

“I’m sorry, Sam,” he said, remorsefully. “I talked to Tony, and, as soon as we can we should all sit down and talk. All of us.” Steve bit his lip. His words sounded like a Band-Aid to a bullet wound. He wondered if one day they’d be able to rebuild the trust they had in each other. He shook his head. It wasn’t something he could work on at the moment. For now, he had something else to worry about. “I’m lying to Bucky,” he confessed after a moment of silence.

Okaaaaay,” Sam drawled, accepting the change in subject. “About what?”

Steve glanced around to make sure he was still alone in the corridor. He was. “You know I talked to Tony, and we reached some sort of agreement. He tried to help Buck, but something happened during the surgery---” Steve paused to clear his throat. “Bucky doesn’t remember anything that happened since he fell from the train.”

Sam was quiet for a full minute, Steve counted in his head. Then he started and aborted a few sentences before finally letting out a long sigh, which caused Steve’s stomach to drop as if he were in a roller coaster.  “And you’ve been keeping the truth from him because---” Sam prompted.

_ Because I’m a selfish coward,  _ Steve thought. “I don’t know,” he said. “I guess I’m just waiting for him to remember on his own, and---until then---” He gripped at his hair. “Sam, I haven’t seen him like this in such a long time! He’s  _ happy _ .” Steve knew he was pleading with Sam, with his own consciousness, but he was desperate enough to not care. “I can’t do this to him.”

“Do what? Tell the truth?” Sam said. “Steve, you can’t keep this from him. It’s his life, he’s got the right to know.”

“I know, I know. But---he deserves a break too, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, he does,” Sam agreed. “But this isn’t a break,” he added. “This is his best friend, the guy who just told me he  _ loves _ him, lying to him.”

“I can’t do this to him,” Steve repeated, shaking his head vehemently. “I can’t hurt him---I’m not---I’m not gonna ruin the only moment of peace he’s had in the last eighty years.”

“You don’t want him to remember, do you?”

“I want him to be happy.” It didn’t answer Sam’s question, but Steve couldn’t face that right now. An awkward silence instilled between them, during which Steve worried at his bottom lip and tried not to think about how much his logical part agreed with Sam. At last, he spoke, “I don’t wanna fight with you, Sam.” It was the only thing they were sure to agree on, Steve thought.

Sam sighed. “Yeah, and you don’t wanna admit you’re wrong either, uh.”

Steve couldn’t hold in the snort. He had no argument against that. Then, before the silence could stretch again, his shoulders dropped and he spoke quietly, “I just need some time.” He suddenly felt bone tired, in spite of the several hours of sleep he had the night before. He felt defeated. “We just need a little break,” he pleaded as if Sam were the one holding his and Bucky’s fate in his hands.

Sam probably sensed Steve’s desperation from his words, because he didn’t try to argue his case again. “What about you? Are you taking care of yourself or just babysitting Barnes?”

“I’m fine,” Steve said. And because he knew Sam wouldn’t accept just that, he added, “It’s like I’m on vacation. I can’t remember the last time I had so much time off. Plus,” he smiled, “you should see this place, it’s incredible.”

Sam made a displeased noise over the line. “It’s just my luck, between you an’ me, the white guy gets to go to the African paradize.”

Steve chuckled. Sam would drop the subject, for now, he would give Steve some time. “I could talk to T’challa, put in a good word,” he offered.

“You’d better,” Sam said. Then, “Listen, man, I gotta go. You and Barnes take care.” He paused for a moment, in which Steve thought he was done, but then he added, I’m happy you found each other, honestly.”

“Thanks, Sam. You take care, too. And if you see Nat---” Steve hesitated. He had no idea what he wanted to say to her.  _ I miss you _ seemed like something she’d roll her eyes at, even if it pretty much summed up how Steve felt.

Luckily, Sam knew him well enough to know what he meant. “I get it. I’ll pass the message if I bump into any inconspicuous old lady on the street.”

“Thanks. Take care, Sam,” Steve repeated.

“You too, man,” Sam replied. “And Steve? Try not to dig your own grave,” he said, but didn’t give Steve time to answer, before adding a hurriedly, “See ya.”

The line went dead, and Steve pressed the button to finish the call on his end. He rested his chin on the cell phone and stared at the wooden floor. He had spent such a long time worrying about Bucky he had been neglecting his other friends. And now that he stopped to think about it, Steve noticed how much he missed Sam and Natasha. He missed the others too, even though they weren’t as close. 

It had started to feel like family, right before things went to shit. Steve only hoped one day they could have that again.

***

The reality was that with each passing day, it became harder for Steve to simply tell Bucky the truth. Every day Bucky seemed better, more like his old self, hardened by the war, yes, but still, not haunted by his past. And Steve buried himself in the untold, he didn’t want to be the one to break Bucky’s heart, to force him to start over yet again. It just wasn’t fair,  that someone had to go through so much in a single life. Steve couldn’t add to that.

“Creepy, Rogers,” Bucky accused, his voice still rough with sleep, as he cracked an eye open to find Steve, propped on an elbow, watching him.

Steve grinned, unapologetic. “Sorry,”  he said automatically. Bucky was mesmerizing. And it wasn’t just the physical, there was something about him that had always captured Steve’s attention, ever since they were kids. He couldn’t name it, but, these past days, he’d say it felt a lot like love. The thought caused heat to rise up Steve’s cheeks.

Bucky’s brow furrowed for a moment before his expression turned into mischief. He smirked. “Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

“Nothin’,” Steve mumbled, averting his gaze. He had never thought  _ Bucky _ could have made him feel shy, but there they were anyway. 

Bucky shifted on the bed, kicking off the covers, he turned so that he was fully facing Steve. “You’re real gorgeous when you blush like that, ya know.” Steve snorted at the cheesiness of it all, even as he flushed harder. He had spent so many years watching Bucky throw his charm around, Steve had never imagined he’d one day be the target of it. He didn’t know what to do with himself. “Hey,” Bucky called softly and waited for Steve to look at him. “I mean it.”

Steve shook his head. “Come on, Bucky.”

“Nope,” Bucky declared loudly. And then, before Steve even realized what was happening, the world spun around him and he suddenly found himself on his back. Bucky’s thighs bracketing his as he straddled Steve. He supported his hands on the mattress on either side of Steve’s head and leaned down until their noses were almost touching. “ _ You _ come on,” he said, challenging. 

In that moment, Steve didn’t think of either past or future. The present was all that mattered, and Bucky’s hot breath mixed with his grounded Steve to the here and now. He surged forward, accepting the challenge, and captured Bucky’s mouth in a kiss that was anything but shy. 

“There you are,” Bucky whispered against Steve’s lips when they broke for air. Bucky blindly sought Steve’s hand and laced their fingers together by Steve’s head. “Don’t you ever sell yourself short, sweetheart. You’re worth way too much to do that.”

Steve didn’t know how much he believed him, not with everything he carried inside himself, but,  _ god help him _ , he wanted to drink in Bucky’s words like gospel, even if Bucky was the only one who saw Steve like that. He kissed Bucky again, slower this time like they had all the time in the world. “You’re so goddamn important to me, Buck,” Steve murmured in between kisses. He hoped, whatever the future brought them, that Bucky would never forget that.

They made out lazily for some time after that until the sounds from the world outside grew louder as the morning progressed. At some point, they began to hear the unmistakable sound of weapons clanging against each other, and Steve knew exactly what would come next. 

And, as if on cue, Bucky put some distance between the two of them. He smiled down at Steve with lips red from kissing. “Hey, Stevie, let’s watch those ladies kick some ass.”

***

“Remind me again  _ why _ do I need to be blindfolded?” Steve asked after tripping on yet another wayward branch, as Bucky guided him towards somewhere within the forest. 

“Gee, Rogers! Do you  _ ever  _ stop complaining?” Bucky asked, instead of answering the question. He tightened his hold on Steve’s hand and kept pulling him along. “We’re almost there.” 

Steve grunted and tried to keep up with the pace.

Bucky had woken him up with a kiss on the cheek, which had been nice. But, when that didn’t really manage to get Steve to open his eyes and get off the bed, he resorted to less interesting methods, like hitting Steve on the face with Steve’s own pillow.  _ That  _ did the trick, even if it caused Steve to complain the whole time he took to get ready.

Today marked a month since their first kiss. And things had been going so well, it almost didn’t feel like this was Steve’s life. They had been slowly exploring the development of their relationship and had yet to move further than making out, but neither of them seemed to be in a hurry for anything else. It was all new, and Steve could see Bucky was just as content with the baby steps. 

But Bucky had also always been a romantic guy. And really? Steve should have seen this coming. Bucky only gave him enough time to get dressed before he basically kidnapped Steve from the palace, blindfolding him as he announced he had a surprise.

Steve went along with all of it, and though he could have done without having his vision impaired, he had to admit he was equal parts nervous and excited. He wondered what Natasha would have to say about his agreeing to  _ this _ particular kind of blind date. She would definitely roll her eyes at the bad pun.

They walked for a few more meters before Bucky brought them to a halt and said, “Alright, you can take it off now.” He let go of Steve’s hand so that Steve could use both hands to untie the knot behind his head. 

The sudden brightness momentarily blinded Steve, and it took him a few seconds to be able to see anything at all. But, once his vision cleared, the first thing that caught his attention was Bucky himself. He was visibly nervous as he waited for Steve’s reaction. Steve would give him one, sure, as soon as he could take his eyes away from him to take in all the rest. Bucky’s hair had been growing really fast, it was almost at the length he used to keep before the War, long enough for him to style it back. He was wearing a simple white T-shirt and sweatpants Steve hadn’t seen before, and which hugged him better than the typical pair he used to workout. He looked real good.

“You like it?” Bucky asked, biting down on his bottom lip. 

It took a moment before Steve realized Bucky meant the clearing, and not himself. So Steve forced his eyes away from him to look at the scenery surrounding them. It was a small open area in the middle of the forest. They weren’t too deep inside it, though. Steve could still hear the waterfalls and the noises of the city. 

Something caught his eyes then, and he saw that Bucky had prepared a picnic under the shade of one of the biggest trees there. He had placed a large white bedsheet by the trunk of the tree. On it, there were a few colorful cushions thrown around, surrounding the fruits, juice and all the other food Bucky had gathered for them. There were even flowers. “Whoa, Buck! You did all of this?”

“It’s too much,” Bucky said, shaking his head. “I feel like an idiot now.” He hung his head, embarrassed.

“Don’t,” Steve said. “I like it.”

Bucky perked up instantly at the compliment. “Yeah?”

Steve took Bucky’s left hand on his. “It’s amazing.” He pulled Bucky forward until they were flushed together, head to toe. Bucky instantly closed his eyes, and Steve took the opportunity to steal a kiss. “I really liked it,” he repeated softly, against Bucky’s lips, “thanks.”

Bucky returned the kiss with a more enthusiastic one. “Good,” he said, with one last peck before stepping out of Steve’s embrace. “I like treating my fella right.”

“Oh, I’m your fella, huh?” Steve played along, but the truth was that Bucky calling Steve his fella made him warm inside,  _ wanted.  _ He couldn’t suppress the fond smile threatening to split his face in half, nor did he want to. 

They sat down in front of each other and unceremoniously began to wolf down on the food Bucky had carefully prepared. “This is so good,” Steve commented with a mouthful. 

Bucky nodded vigorously. “Innit?” He took a second to swallow down before adding, “You ever thought one day we’d be eating so much fresh fruit at once?”

All Steve could do was shake his head. No, he hadn’t imagined any of this would ever be possible. And sometimes he was afraid he’d wake up just to find it was all a dream. 

They enjoyed the rest of their breakfast in companionable silence, only sharing a few thoughts, or remembering something here and there, but stealing glances every time they thought the other wasn’t looking, and promptly blushing once they noticed neither of them was being as discreet as he thought. It was the best meal of Steve entire, long life.

Once they were finished they packed everything---taking care not to leave any trash behind---and headed back to the palace. In the middle of the way, Steve felt bold enough to reach for Bucky’s hand. It caught him by surprise and, for a moment, Steve thought Bucky might let go. He didn’t. And they walked hand in hand the rest of the way.

They were a few feet from the entrance of the palace when they noticed the commotion. Steve’s muscles contracted, and he could sense Bucky tensing up beside him. They let go of each other, the need to be prepared for anything bypassing any feelings that might get hurt with the gesture. They kept moving forward, though with more caution now.

Okoye spotted them just as they were about to enter the palace. She didn’t seem ready for a fight, which made Steve relax a little. “I was looking for you,” she said to Bucky.

“Me? Why, what happened?” Bucky asked, gesturing to the people rushing to and fro around them. 

“Is everything alright?” Steve asked at the same time.

“Oh, this is for Shuri,” Okoye explained. “Her mother wishes to celebrate her return.”

“Am I… part of the celebration?” Bucky shot her a confused look. Steve didn’t understand either, and he was afraid of why Shuri wanted to see him. 

“No,” she frowned,” why would you be?” She looked at Bucky as if he had just said something ridiculous. It probably  _ did  _ sound ridiculous to her. “The Dora Milaje are training today, and we are short one person. It would be good to train with somebody that has a different fighting style.”

“But I was a sniper,” Bucky said. 

Okoye turned her inquisitive eyes on Steve, and all he could do was to silently plead that she didn’t say anything else. He knew most people had gone along with his plan because they agreed that Bucky’s memory would return soon, but, as that had still to happen, Steve didn’t really feel the need to keep them on the loop. But Bucky was doing fine, he hadn’t had any more nightmares, there were no shadows under his eyes these days, nothing haunting him. He was happy, and nobody would be able to convince Steve to spoil that.

Thankfully, Okoye simply shrugged and said, “Not a problem,” as she put a hand on Bucky’s arm and started to guide him to the direction she was going. 

Bucky shot Steve a playful  _ save me _ look, but he went along with her. Steve smiled at him as he watched them go. He knew Bucky would have stayed if he really didn’t want to go, but he seemed to like the Dora Milaje. Steve would often catch him watching their training sessions from afar, he was pretty sure Bucky was probably more excited than he was letting on. So Steve let them be. He had a challenge of his own to face.

***

There was a fundamental flaw in Steve’s plan. And she was furious. 

“I told you to not let anyone touch him,” Shuri was angrily saying to her brother when Steve entered the meetings room.

He had met T’challa’s little sister a total of once, but he had heard a lot about her from the group of scientist that took care of Bucky’s cryo chamber, which she had designed. When he came back to Wakanda with Tony and a promise to help Bucky, T’challa himself had advised them they should wait for Shuri to come back from her official trip stateside. But Steve had been restless, he didn’t want to rob Bucky of any more time; he needed to give him back his freedom. And besides, Steve wanted to show Tony he still trusted him. So, against T’challa’s advice, Steve had given Tony the go ahead. 

He didn’t blame Tony. But he did regret not waiting for Shuri.

She had her back to the door, but guards moving to block Steve’s passage drew her attention. She swiveled like she knew exactly who it was. “What is wrong with you?” The guards instantly stepped out of her way. Steve knew better than to move. “Why didn’t you wait for me? Your Playboy just ruined months of my work. I thought you cared about him.” Though she was a tall kid, she was still shorter than Steve. And yet, her words made him feel small. 

“I’ll let you two talk,” T’challa said, breaking some of the tension as he sidestepped the two of them and left the room. 

“It was a mistake,” Steve admitted once they were alone, as alone as they could be with the royal guard standing right behind them. 

Shuri snorted. “At least you know,” she retorted. Then she sighed, offering Steve a more sympathetic look. “How bad is it?”

Dropping his shoulder with a defeated sigh, Steve answered, “He can’t remember anything past the moment he fell off the train.” He was sure Shuri already knew everything that had happened to Bucky, so he didn’t see the need to elaborate. From the look on her face, it was clear she was fighting back the urge to go at him again. Steve thought it was best to rip the Band-Aid at once. “I’m lying to him. I panicked. And told him he’s been frozen for the past seventy years, like me.”

Shuri facepalmed. 

Steve went on, “But he’s happy,” he had to defend his point of view. “This is the first real break he’s had in  _ decades _ . You’ve no idea what he’s been through.”

Shuri slowly uncovered her face. “Do you even know if the triggers were deactivated?” The words startled Steve. He hadn’t thought about that since the surgery. “You don’t, do you? You have no idea. And you think you’re doing him a favor by lying to him?”

Steve hung his head. She was right, and there was nothing he could say to that. “What do you want to do?” His eyes stung. He thought they would have more time, time to be together, to be themselves, without the weight of any title thrust upon them. Steve had been naive. Bucky would hate him for this.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Shuri opening and closing her mouth a few times, looking unsure. Steve cleared his throat, averting his eyes. Shuri was a kid. He had no right to make her feel guilty for calling him on his own bullshit. “Let me talk to him first,” Steve asked.

Shuri assented. “I don’t want to hurt your---” she hesitated, giving away that she knew about their relationship, which probably made Steve seem like even more of an asshole in her eyes, “friend, but he came here so that we could help him, and that’s what I’m going to do.” Steve kept his mouth shut, so she added softly, “We don’t know what’s in his head.”

“He’s not dangerous,” Steve argued.

“You don’t know that,” Shuri said. Then she patted Steve’s arm. “But don’t worry, Captain.” She grinned. “I’ll take care of your boyfriend.”

Steve didn’t know what kind of reaction she was looking for, but the grateful smile was probably not it. Shuri wasn’t able to hide the surprise fast enough. “Thank you,” he said. “Just --- give us the rest of the day. I’ll talk to him.”

Shuri nodded. And Steve marched out of the room like a man on a death row.

***

“Stevie,” Bucky called, practically vibrating with excited energy. “Can you believe I’m actually not half bad at hand-to-hand? I mean, those women definitely wiped the floor with me, but I had no idea I could handle myself in a fight like that.” He pointed out at the window. “That’s a trained  _ army _ , a real one, not a bunch of green kids pretending they know the right end of a gun. Crazy, huh?”

Only once Bucky stopped did he notice Steve’s face. He was white as a ghost. His eyes were red-rimmed, and he honestly seemed to be on the verge of tears. All of Bucky’s internal alarms went instantly up. He knelt down in front of Steve, who was sitting on the edge of his side of the bed. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” The pet name had the opposite effect of what Bucky was expecting, and Steve practically recoiled at hearing it. “Steve?” Bucky’s hand hovered over Steve’s right leg for a moment, but he wasn’t sure his touch would be welcomed, so he dropped his hand on the mattress instead. 

Steve shook his head. He had yet to look Bucky in the eye. He seemed to need a few seconds to gather himself, and he sniffed and cleared his throat before speaking in an almost detached voice. “After we talk, you need to go see T’challa’s sister, Shuri.” He wouldn’t look Bucky in the eye. “She knows what to do, she’s gonna help you. You can trust her.”

“Trust her with what? What are you talking about?” Silence. “Steve!” Bucky cried out frustrated. “Look at me.” It felt like a small eternity until Steve did so. “What is going on? What are you talking about?”

“I lied,” Steve said at last. “I’ve been lying to you this whole time!” 

He looked serious, tears were a blink away from spilling out of his eyes. But that didn’t make any sense. He was a terrible liar. Bucky had always been able to read him like a book. He felt suddenly cold. Was Steve talking about their relationship? Bucky swallowed hard. Was Steve rejecting him? Maybe the picnic had finally made him realize he didn’t like Bucky like that, maybe it had all been too much, too soon. “Lying about what?” Bucky asked once he found his voice.

“You were not---” Steve balled his hands into tight fists on his lap. He looked like a man confessing a crime to judge and jury. “You haven’t been frozen for seventy years like me.”

Bucky shook his head, confused. That was not what he had been expecting. “What do you mean? So where was I?”

Steve reached out and grabbed a thin file from the nightstand. Bucky hadn’t even noticed it was there. Whatever it was, it made Steve turn slightly green as he touched it, and Bucky’s apprehension went up a few notches. “You’ve been with Hydra,” he said, handing the file to Bucky. “I’m so sorry, Buck.”

Bucky took the file from Steve and stood up because his legs had begun to hurt. It wasn’t his intention, but he noticed absently, as he opened the file, that he had put some distance between him and Steve when he rose. 

There was a photo of him in the file. He had long hair and he looked dead. “What  _ is  _ this?” he mumbled. The file was in Russian but there were English notes written all over it. Translation, in Steve’s handwriting. Bucky’s eyes skimmed over them, not knowing where to start. His right hand started to shake. 

_ Winter Soldier. _

They wiped his memory. He was turned into a killing machine, and then wiped again. Rinse and repeat.

Bucky flipped through the pages with difficulty. Even his left hand was unsteady. Zola’s name popped up every now and then, causing fear to wash over Bucky even if, logically, he was almost certain the man must be long dead. It didn’t matter, though. In the end, Bucky had belonged to him just like he had said when they were in the factory.

This would have killed his ma, Bucky thought sadly. His pa would have killed Bucky himself.  _ Good God _ , what the hell happened to him?

“I don’t remember any of this,” Bucky commented. It was disturbing, to read about himself and not have those memories, but the file seemed real enough, and life had long since changed his definition of the impossible.  He turned to Steve, who was hunched in on himself like he wanted to be smaller again. “It’s cos they made me forget, right?” Even as he asked, a bad feeling settled in Bucky’s bones. 

The feeling was cemented by Steve’s crumbling face, and the minutely shake of his head. “You got out,” Steve said. “You pulled yourself from Hydra’s hands. You remembered a lot, you were rebuilding.” He looked up with shiny eyes. “You have no idea how strong you are, Bucky. I’m so proud---”

Bucky had never given Steve a dirty look before, and part of him felt awful doing it, but it  _ did _ do the trick of shutting Steve up. He didn’t need praise right now, he needed to understand what was going on. “What happened to me?” His voice was dry, empty, Bucky hardly recognized himself.

“A lot happened. You were free, but someone framed you for something to get to me,” Steve said, “You still had some trigger in your head---”

“Triggers?” Bucky interrupted.

“Some random words,” Steve explained, “and when you hear them, it’s like---” He tiptoed around it. Bucky almost wanted to shake him. “They activated the Winter Soldier,” Steve said, at last, jutting his chin at the file on Bucky’s hand. “You wanted to get rid of them, that’s why we’re here.”

“The surgery,” Bucky remembered, “I asked for it.” He still didn’t understand why he couldn’t remember any of this, and why Steve hadn’t said anything, but things were starting to make sense. And the guilt on Steve’s face, on his whole body, was a bad omen. Part of Bucky wanted to stop the conversation right then, just so he wouldn’t hear whatever Steve was about to say. 

It took Steve a full minute to start talking this time. “You asked to be put back on cryosleep, 'til we could find a way to get you free. Then Tony---Stark, he thought he’d figured out.  _ I, _ ” Steve’s voice shook, “agreed to the surgery. But something went wrong, you gotta understand, it wasn’t Tony’s fault.” Bucky remembered how Stark and Steve seemed like they had bad blood between them, so why would Steve… “He’s a good man, Buck, he wouldn’t hurt you on purpose. I’m sorry, Bucky. I was desperate, I knew I should’ve waited for Shuri, but---I wanted to give you your life back.”

Steve was breaking right in front of him, and part of Bucky longed to drop all of this and just hold him tight in his arms, apologize for the burden put on Steve’s shoulders. But another part of him wanted to put as much distance between them as possible. That second part was speaking louder right now. He turned to leave, and Steve spoke.

“Please, go talk to Shuri. She wants to help you, she knows how,” he said again. 

“Why?” Bucky snapped, looking back at him. “Why do you want me to talk to this girl so bad?”

In spite of Bucky’s tone, Steve answered calmly. “Cos they don’t know you, but they heard of the Winter Soldier. They have to know they can trust you, Buck. Wakanda doesn’t just open up for anybody.”

“And if  _ I _ don’t wanna stay here?” Bucky asked, half afraid he already knew the answer.  Their conversation about homemade a lot more sense now, and Bucky thought he could finally understand what Steve was trying to say that day. Nevertheless, he demanded, “I want to go home, Steve.”

Steve angrily swiped at his eyes. “We can’t. I’m a fugitive,” he explained. “And if anyone sees you, they’ll shoot you on sight.” He didn’t sugar coated or tried to talk around what he had to say this time, for which Bucky was thankful. Nonetheless, looking at him  _ hurt _ and Bucky needed to get away. He began to walk, and, as if on cue, Steve started, “Please---”

“I’ll talk to her,” Bucky cut him off, dropping the file back on the nightstand. Then he left before Steve could say anything else, before Bucky had the chance to cave and ask Steve to hold him, to fix this and make it better. He couldn’t do that, so he ran.

***

By the time Steve managed to unfreeze his bones, Bucky had been long gone. Steve’s brain was foggy and he felt like he was about to be sick. He stood up, determined to look for Bucky, but Steve’s feet---seeming to have a mind of their own--- had other plans, and when he realized it, he was entering the emergency room at the medical ward. 

Steve sat at the corner of the room, on the last chair of the row reserved for people to wait until their friends and family got their treatment. He spotted Asha right away. She was suturing the skin above a little girl’s knee, and quietly telling a story that was, simultaneously, making the girl’s shoulder shake with giggles she couldn’t quite hold, and also no doubt distracting her from the procedure. 

Steve’s ma used to do the same thing, not just for him, but her patients too. Steve’s eyes welled up. Sarah would have been so disappointed in him if she could see him now; she had always loved Bucky like a son. Steve had always loved Bucky as well, and now he just destroyed him, he destroyed them both. Sometimes, all Steve wanted was to close his eyes and wake up back when they were kids, and life was just perfectly flawed.

He sniffed and quickly ran his knuckles on the corner of his eyes. It was enough to draw Asha’s attention. She finished the suture and patted the kid’s other knee. Then, Asha helped the girl hop down from the gurney and sent her down a corridor. She watched the little girl limp her way down the hall, and then turned her attention to Steve.

She huffed out a tired breath and sat down beside him. “What’s troubling you, boy?”

Steve leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He shook his head. There was a lump in his throat and Steve suddenly found himself unable to speak. He shouldn’t have let things get this far. He shouldn’t have kissed Bucky every day with the secret between them, it made everything so much worse. Every word Steve had said to Bucky since he woke up from the surgery would now taste sour and untrue. Bucky wouldn’t trust Steve ever again.

The thought was what finally caused Steve to break. He doubled in on himself, face hidden behind his hands. Steve wasn’t able to hold in the sob that tore through his chest, his whole body shook with the force of it. There was an invisible hand  _ squeezing  _ his heart, and it felt like the pain would never stop.

Steve couldn’t tell how long he stayed like that but, some time later, Asha took a hold of his wrists, pulling his hands from his face. She coaxed him to look up, and softly ran her calloused thumbs over his cheeks, wiping Steve’s tears away like his ma used to. She reminded him so much of Sarah; Steve was sure they would have been great friends. 

“Love always hurts, boy,” Asha said once she had Steve’s attention. Her gaze made him feel like she knew exactly what was going on inside of him. She smiled, dropping her hands from his face. Steve inhaled shakily, he couldn’t reciprocate the smile. But Asha didn’t seem to be waiting for one, she patted his knee, just like she had done with the little girl, and said, “But only fools give up on it.”

***

Bucky didn’t go straight to Shuri. Instead, he walked around the palace, no particular destination in mind, and found himself at the foot of the Black Panther monument. It was a beautiful thing, surrounded by waterfalls; it usually made him feel at peace like he was being protected, under the watchful eyes of the panther. Bucky sat down by the water, he was having a hard time focussing on a single thought. The panther was not making him any calmer today.

His head hurt with all the information from the file already burned in it,  and when he finally managed to grasp at a thought, it was the memory of Steve confessing he’d lied, and that wasn’t any better. However, something became clear then, for some reason Steve had decided Bucky didn’t need to know what he didn’t remember. At some point, after the surgery, after Bucky woke up without his memory, Steve had chosen to keep that from him. Bucky couldn’t understand why.

“This is my favorite place in the whole country, too,” T’challa said, as he approached. He sat down near Bucky, making sure there was enough space between the two of them. Maybe he thought Bucky might be relapsing, that he was becoming the  _ Soldier _ again. Looking back at the past months, Bucky could see now that many people had done the same thing, walking on eggshells around him like he was a minefield. It was also in the looks Steve gave him when Bucky was lost in thought but still aware of being observed. Whatever it was they were expecting, one thing was certain, it was feared. 

Bucky simply acknowledged T’challa with a nod, after all, if the king of a place was talking to him, the least he could do was to show some respect. Steve had warned him, they were lucky to be here. 

T’challa didn’t say anything else for some time, so Bucky chose to break the silence himself. “What are we doing here, exactly?” He realized T’challa probably didn’t know that Steve had just told Bucky the truth, so he added, “Steve and I, I mean.”

“I’m helping you,” T’challa responded, though he was vague enough to leave Bucky wondering if that  _ you _ was plural or singular. Be that as it may, one thing was certain, he still thought Bucky had no memory.

“Why?” Bucky pressed. Maybe the king wouldn’t feel the need to cover up for Steve, maybe he would be honest if Bucky insisted long enough. “Why are you helping us?” His eyes met T’challa’s, challenging.

And, in return, T’challa offered him the smile of someone who was about to be elusive, even if Steve would have insisted on calling it diplomatic if he were here. “Because,” he said, “I believe you deserve it.” He paused, probably to choose his next words, noticing, by Bucky’s face that his answer only arose more questions. “I have---done the wrong thing in the past. I’ve misjudged people. Now, I want to follow a different path.” 

Bucky hummed and got to his feet. He offered T’challa a hand, helping him get up as well. “I have to go see your sister,” he said. T’challa’s eyes widen slightly for a split second, before going back to normal, so fast Bucky would have missed, had he blinked, but it was enough to show that T’challa understood.

“She is a great scientist,” T’challa said, his chest practically swelling up with pride. “But she is also a kind person. Shuri won’t hurt you, you can trust her.” He sounded so sympathetic, it made Bucky uncomfortable, realizing T’challa knew more about him than Bucky himself did at the moment.

However, T’challa spoke with such devolution, so much certainty in what he was saying, that Bucky didn’t have it in him to question. But, more than that, for some reason---maybe because of the way T’challa spoke about his sister---Bucky really did feel like he could trust this kid to help him. 

“Come,” T’challa beckoned him, heading back to the palace, “I’ll take you to her.”

***

Steve hadn’t been kidding when he referred to Shuri as a kid. She wasn’t even eighteen yet, and, for a second, Bucky seriously considered turning around and walking away from her lab. But he was well aware of the fact he didn’t actually have a choice here, and besides, he didn’t really want to be disrespectful to the people that welcomed him to their land and were offering to help him, nevermind he was dealing with honest to god  _ royalty _ . It was all too much, but he thought knew what he had to do. 

Part of him wished like hell that Steve was here, a comforting presence, somebody to hold Bucky’s hand while whatever was supposed to happen happened. Everything was still too fresh, though, and there was an awful, heavy feeling on his gut, combined with a little voice in his head telling him he couldn’t just trust Steve like that again, that Steve,  _ his _ Stevie, was a liar. Bucky had no idea how much he should trust that voice, but he didn’t want to believe in it.

Sure, Steve must have had his reasons to keep him in the dark, but it was too soon for Bucky’s brain to rationalize beyond the fact that Steve  _ lied _ .

Shuri opened her mouth, probably to introduce herself, but, before she could get so much as a single word out, the door behind Bucky opened. Shuri halted and T’challa frowned at the newcomer. Bucky, curious, swiveled around to see who it was, and, as if summoned by Bucky’s thoughts, there he was.

Steve.

He looked small and uncomfortable. It was a strange look on him. Steve had always been too proud, sometimes---most of the time---for his own good. Bucky could barely remember the last time he saw Steve admitting to being wrong, or apologizing for it. 

Steve worried at his lower lip for a moment. “I---I didn’t think,” he paused, seemingly frustrated with himself, and scratched the back of his head. “I didn’t want you to go through this alone,” he said at last. His voice was rough like he’d been crying. It tugged at the strings of Bucky’s heart. He hated seeing Steve like that. Since they were kids, Bucky had taken up the task of making sure Steve  _ didn’t _ have a reason to look like that. 

And now Bucky’s brain waged war against his heart.

He studied Steve’s face, and then let out a long exhale. He turned to Shuri. “Uh, I need a moment.” She nodded her assent, and Bucky beckoned Steve to follow him out of the laboratory. They hadn’t gone too further away when Steve began to talk.

“This might give you all your memories back,” he explained. He sounded desperate. “Buck, I know this doesn’t excuse what I did, but---you gotta know---” he stopped walking, bringing a hand up as if he wanted to put it on Bucky’s shoulder, but he aborted the motion before even reaching Bucky’s arm, and let his hand drop back by his side. “The scars, they’re not from falling.”

“Yeah,” Bucky drawled, “I figured.”

Steve cleared his throat. Maybe Bucky’s voice came out colder and angrier than he thought. “There are seventy years of a lot of bad stuff, Buck,” Steve said. “I never wanted to lie to you, I wanted to give you a break from all of it.” He huffed. “I thought it would all come back to you soon.” His logic was flawed, and, judging by Steve’s face, he knew it too. “I know I fucked up---” It looked like he had more to say,  but whatever it was, Steve swallowed it back down. 

Bucky was quiet for a long time after that, mostly because he felt he needed that time to process everything Steve was saying and the implications of it. He knew the thin file Steve had shown him was a mere glimpse of what happened to him over the years, but that small piece of information was enough to freeze his insides. Bucky could barely imagine what seventy years of that would look like, imprinted in his memory.

He brought himself back to the present. “I never thought you would lie to me,” he said, shaking his head, “I didn’t even think it was possible.” At hearing that, Steve looked as if Bucky had just told him his ma died, all over again. Bucky wanted more than anything to take it back and comfort him, but he held his ground. “I want you to tell me. Tell me who the Winter Soldier is.”

Steve’s whole demeanor changed, ready to argue, to fight again. “Bucky,” he began. 

“No. I have the right to know.”

“But, the procedure?”

“I wanna decide,” Bucky said, leaning his back on the hallway wall behind him, “if I want this fella in my head for the rest of my life.” He put his right hand on the pocket of the printed pants the Dora Milaje told him to wear for training, they were baggier than the pair of sweatpants he had been wearing before, but they actually worked better and gave him more freedom to move. Bucky watched his metal arm for a bit, turning it up and down as the plates shifted, before putting his left hand in his pocket as well. “Do you miss being small?”

Steve huffed a breath. “I dunno, Buck. I don’t miss being helpless, I can tell you  _ that _ .”

Bucky scoffed. “You were never helpless, Steve, you’re stubborn,” Bucky said. “Your problem isn’t  _ not  _ getting help, it’s  _ asking _ for it.” Steve rolled his eyes at him, but he didn’t try to deny it. “But seriously, would you wanna forget that part of your life?”

“No,” Steve answered without hesitation. “There’s a bunch of good stuff in that part of my life, there’s you,” he stepped closer as he said it. Bucky suspected he didn’t even realize he was doing it, it was how they had always worked, gravitating towards each other, broken hearts and all. “There’s my ma,” he smiled sadly. Bucky missed Sarah so much, he couldn’t imagine how it must have felt for Steve. “Miss that stray cat you said you weren’t feeding, but that slept on our door every night.” He sighed and turned so that he could rest on the wall next to Bucky, shoulder to shoulder. “I miss how simple our lives were. I wouldn’t want to forget a thing.” He faced Bucky. “But, Bucky---”

“I get it, Stevie,” Bucky said, “It was bad.”

“It was worse than whatever it is you’re imagining it,” Steve insisted somber. “It’s not just what was done to you, Buck,” he said, “it’s what they made you do.” 

_ Oh _ . Now things were starting to make more sense. This was why Steve chose to keep Bucky in the dark, he wasn’t scared of Bucky knowing about the torture, Steve didn’t want him to carry the burden of the Winter Soldier’s actions on his shoulders. Bucky could see that now, he could even understand it,  but he didn’t agree. 

Bucky snorted loudly and Steve looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “You’re a punk, you know that? You’d’ve knocked my teeth in if ever kept something like that from you, and told you I was tryna protect you.” He shook his head. “Fucking hypocrite, Rogers.”

Steve offered him a small, unsure smile. “That mean I’m forgiven, then?” 

Bucky looked at him seriously. In all truth, his heart was already halfway down the path of forgiveness, even though it would take some time for his brain to catch up. Steve had always been the love of his life, way before kissing and romantic feelings were in the picture. They were Bucky and Steve, Steve and Bucky. The sky was blue, the sun was hot. It was just one of those facts of life, a sure thing. Bucky, the man he was at that moment, didn’t even know any other kind of reality. 

However, that would change soon, once he got back to the lab and a teenage princess fixed his brain; or maybe she wouldn’t be able to, Maybe they could run away and live in a hut in the middle of the forest. Steve would go with him, Bucky was sure. Or he could surrender and face whatever he had to face back home. 

“If this works,” Bucky said, instead of answering him, “I’m not gonna be the same guy from the picnic today.” 

Steve shrugged, bumping their shoulders together. “Doesn’t matter to me.”

Bucky looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a smirk on his face.  “You sure about that?”

“I didn’t do it for myself,” Steve said. He reached out with his hand and simply let it fall by the one Bucky had in his pocket. “I hope you can forgive me one day, Buck. But, whatever you decide to do, you know that I’m with you to the end of the line.”

They kept repeating that to each other. Bucky hoped it wouldn’t one day lose all meaning. 

He glanced at Steve’s hand and then at his face. Slowly, he took his hand out of his pocket. He ran his fingers lightly through the back of Steve’s hands, before lacing them together. _ God, _ he loved Steve. It was probably why it hurt so much, the fact that he couldn’t just immediately forgive and forget. Bucky gave Steve’s hand a squeeze. 

“I love you,” Bucky said, looking down at their joined hands. “Wherever life takes us from here, remember that, alright.”

“I love you, too,” Steve said with his typical fierce conviction. He turned around and pulled Bucky against him. “I ain’t leaving you, Barnes, unless you tell me to.” He brought his free hand up to cup Bucky’s face. “I’d follow you anywhere,” Steve promised, his eyes burning into Bucky’s, who could hear perfectly well what Steve wasn’t saying. He would stick with Bucky, no matter what he chose to do, even if Bucky decided to run, with those triggers still in his head, even if he decided to stay and remember, Steve would be there either way. “Where do you wanna go?”

_ Home _ , Bucky wished to say. But that wouldn’t do, so he made up his mind, knowing full well that it wouldn’t be easy. He was scared of his decision even as he made it. Bucky didn’t know if that was the right choice, and part of him definitely thought he was crazy for doing it. But Steve’s hand was still in his, and Bucky knew, he  _ knew _ , it didn’t matter what, he wouldn’t let go. 

So he kissed Steve, tenderly and without haste. Then Bucky told him what he wanted to do. 


End file.
